Illusions
by The Ace Card
Summary: Sometimes life gives you a chance to fix something. For the Joker there was such a chance. So, now he lives in Wayne Manor together with Batman. But does he feel happy?


Sometimes life gives you a chance to fix something. For the Joker there was such a chance.

He can't undo his previous mistakes, but he can try to start over from scratch.

And do it so that from his past life there's nothing left. And no one. Except Batman.

He tries, he really tries.

Over the past five months no one in the city has suffered from his hand.

There were a couple of explosions, there were several robberies.

But he didn't touch any of the people, not even once.

He spent the last five month in Wayne Manor.

He's near _him_. That's all he ever needed.

He can look into his blue eyes, he can see the transformation from the ordinary person into a gloomy, delightful symbol of the night and back. He happily jump on his neck everyday when he comes home from work. And with the same happiness sees his second appearance off to another work every night, the work which is much more important.

He happens in the city too, but very rarely. Because now there is absolutely no need for it.

It's not easy for him. The possibility of a perfect life is an illusion created by his insane consciousness. And he's still feeding himself with these illusions, hoping that one day they'll become a reality.

Batman let him inside his house, but not inside his life.

He can see it by his venomous look; by his forsed smile. By his manner of sitting at the table as far as possible from him. By his unconsciously clenching fists.

Bruce tries to look happy, but the falsity is seen too clearly.

He tries to do everything for not to anger him.

He silently swallows insulting words when Batman is in a bad mood. And silently obediently leaves, when Batman angrily orders him to get out of the cave.

He's quietly sitting alone in a large gloomy dining room at a huge long table and trying to cover the fresh bruises on his forearms with the sleeves of his robe. Alfred's passing by, and he's hoping that the butler won't notice the red mark of the slap on his face.

The old man hardly talks to him, but the Joker's catching his sympathetic gaze.

Alfred understands everything. Alfred is the only one who understands.

Batman lets him kiss himself. He never answers a kiss, only slightly opens his mouth. Joker knows, he does it only as a payment for safety in the city.

Sometimes Bruce allows him to fall asleep next to him. He lies turning away from him, but the Joker cautiously moves closer and gently wraps his arms around him.

"I love you," he says quietly, resting his head on his shoulder.

"I love you," he whispers in his ear and gently kisses his cheek when he brings coffee to the batcave and puts it next to a person sitting at the computer.

"I love you," he says goodbye before hanging up when they talk to each other using communicator.

He says it at every opportunity.

But Batman never answers. And it's not because he's afraid of telling the truth, but because he doesn't want to lie.

Batman almost always stays silent.

Batman was silent when he was kneeling in front of him, clutching at his cape and swearing that he would never kill again.

Sometimes he comes to the kitchen, takes out a knife and looks at it thoughtfully. At such moments he wants to kill. He wants to spit on everything, go out and rip someone's guts out.

But he won't do that. Never again. For him.

Because Joker believes: sooner or later Batman will understand what he means to him.

Sometimes he asks himself why does he need all that.

But there are moments that give an answer to this question.

Because sometimes Batman is sad.

On such days he seems distracted and vulnerable. He looks at the old photographs hanging on the walls and draws Joker to himself, sighing softly, pressing him harder as if trying to protect him.

In the old days Joker lived for the battles with Batman. Now he lives for such moments.

"Alfred, tell me, does he hate me?"

The old man is silent, sighing in sadness.

"Answer me at least once!" he's almost breaking into a scream.

"I can ask Master Bruce about it, sir."

"No, don't ... I already know what he'll say. I'm interested in what you think."

Alfred isn't answering for a long time, pensively studying the face of the interlocutor. The butler knows what this gaze means, because he has often seen pain in other people's eyes.

"It's hard to forgive a person who has been bringing anguish to the others for so many years," he's finally saying. Joker's lowering his head with understanding.

He's knocking on the closed door and carefully peersing inside.

Bruce is lying on the bed, crossing his legs. He's focused on typing something in the phone, ignoring the visitor.

He's neatly coming closer, lying down next to him and putting his head on his chest.

"I told you to not distract me when I work," the rough voice is like a knife's blow.

He got used to take these blows. He always took them, then as now.

"Bats, I just... Forgive me."

"What have you done again?" – indifferently, still not looking up.

"No, you didn't understand. I want to apologize. For everything."

Bruce's looking at him absent-mindedly and returning to the phone again.

But the free hand is slowly falling on his head and beginning to stroke his green hair gently.

Joker knows that Batman will forgive him one day. Let it take time. Let him have to endure the pain. But one day everything will fall into place. Life will no longer be an illusion.

And for the first time ever they both will be happy.


End file.
